Tomorrow Belongs to Me
by Gugelhupf
Summary: Or: Two Time-Travelling Serial Killers, One Madman, One Box and Two slightly confused Humans Who Just Got Dragged along The Doctor, Clara, Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham join forces to catch a time travelling serial killer. What could possibly go wrong?
1. The Adventure Begins

_**Hey ho! I love Doctor Who, Hannibal and Cabaret. Basically, this was inevitable. But you do not need to know Cabaret! Really, just Hannibal and Doctor Who.**_

"Is this it...?", asked Clara uncertainly.

"I suppose so," answered the Doctor, once again looking at the reading on the TARDIS' screen. "Why?"

"I think you might want to take a look," Clara said. "This is earth."

"Let me guess. Great Britain."

"Nope."

The Doctor finally joined Clara by the TARDIS door.

"Ah. Looks like Germany then."

And yes, indeed. There were some flags in the country's colour.

"1930s, I'd say," said the Doctor. Clara flinched.

"So it's close to..."

"I'm afraid so, Clara."

"Oh."

The Doctor looked at Clara disapprovingly.

"Brave heart, Clara! We still need to find him."

In fact they were on a mission: There was a mass murderer who liked to kill his victims with his bare hands and then cruelly disfigure the corpses. Its vortex manipulator was a bit faulty so that the TARDIS could trace wherever he went but so far, they had not had any luck actually finding him. He was a human, so much was clear and he kept choosing locations where at least some other humans were present.

Despite all the timey-wimey technology the Doctor had at his disposal (in addition to these enormous brains of his), all they had been doing for the previous few days was travel from planet to planet and space platform and starship and look at the trail of corpses and disturbed people. It was maddening.

So, they had decided that there only was one way of getting ahead of that person: knowing the next victim before he did. The Doctor was certain that there had to be a pattern but he could not figure out, which. All official records of the victims showed no similarities. Not even in species or time.

Their grand scheme to achieve this was to hire two specialists: Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. Clara had told the Doctor that he had now completely lost it once she had been doing a bit of research on the people to find out that the oddly familiar name "Lecter" was this familiar because he was, in fact, the Chesapeake Ripper!

The Doctor had told Clara that it would be a totally safe undertaking and that Hannibal would get no chance to cause any trouble.

"Uh, Doctor?,asked Clara.

"Yes?", replied Hannibal smoothly. He had been reading in the library and had made his way to the console room upon landing. Clara flinched and it was obvious that Hannibal was enjoying himself.

"N-no. The other one." It came out almost like a question.

"What is it, Clara?", said the Doctor slightly irritably. It wasn't actually directed at poor Clara but rather at the psychopath who had too much fun intimidating his companion.

"Have we actually considered what we would do now?", she asked.

"Well, I since we have already shown them the last two victims, why don't we investigate a bit?"

"Mister Graham?", Clara then shouted for the still slightly shaken man. Contrary to Hannibal, he actually _was_ fazed by traveling through space and time in a bigger-on-the-inside police box. Also, it was obvious that he would have preferred if Dr. Lecter had remained behind that thick pane in the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

"Yes, coming," he shouted. He tore himself away from all that fascinating engineering he saw on the TARDIS and ran up the stairs to help figure out where to start.

Once they had all gathered outside the TARDIS, the Doctor said:

"Well, he seems to be lazy because the murders always happen close to where he lands. So we won't have to look very far."

They had all dressed in period clothes so their appearance wouldn't scream "Time traveler" as loudly as it usually did. The TARDIS, for once, was also parked in a dark alley rather than in the middle of everything as the Doctor seemed to prefer.

"He kills the counterproductive," said Will Graham quietly. "He'll kill those who swim against the tide."

Clara had been very curious what the experts made of those murders but she wasn't prepared for Will's cryptic phrases.

"How do you mean? Where do we look?"

"He considers himself the… protector of history," Will explained. As always, Hannibal did not pass up the chance to throw in a clever, deep thought to guide Will's chaotic progress towards their goal.

"Not unlike the Doctor and miss Oswald."

Clara flinched at the serial killer saying her name.

"No. He isn't a constant, he… _flows_."

"Like history itself," stated Hannibal.

The Doctor was growing impatient with the conversation that seemed to be happening in a dimension that only Will and Hannibal could enter. He was about to remark something but Clara silenced him efficiently by elbowing his ribs once he opened his mouth. She did see now why they couldn't just bring in Will Graham. Without his therapist, his explanations were absolute gibberish. She wondered how Jack Crawford put up with that before Hannibal.

Will's eyes lit up.

"Yes! He doesn't have firm morals. He just… sees the lines and structures in the course of events and he..."

"Turns them into a painting," says Hannibal, his indifferent tone almost getting an appreciative note.

"Yes, he eliminates all the disturbances to make everything more clear, he strives for… purpose."

"He is hurting time itself!", exclaimed the Doctor. He certainly did not really object to any madness but he would not have these two men talking about that person like he was an artist.

"Why does he… do what he does, then?", asked Clara, earning herself a puzzled expression from Will and an amused raised eyebrow from Hannibal.

To the Doctor though, that vague question certainly did make sense. Before Hannibal could even ironically comment on his companion's imprecision, he exclaimed:

"Yes, exactly! Why does he always leave a mess behind? The brutal killings, the horrid things he does to the corpses, he even seemed to have eaten parts of them!"

Three pointed glances went in Hannibal's direction. Who was offended to be compared to such a barbaric person.

"Yes he eats their meat raw," he said as indignantly as a Hannibal would get. None of the others missed the fact that he had referred to their flesh as "meat".

This was going to be a difficult investigation.


	2. The Curtain Rises

**Hello again! I know, this one is kinda short and not that funny but I promise that the next one will be worth it! I had a hard time describing the Emcee because he is quite a sight to behold, so you should probably google the words "Cabaret Emcee Broadway" and look at the first few pics you get.**

 **Anyhow**

Somehow, the former special agent and the former agent's former therapist found themselves in a dingy little bar in a cabaret in the middle of Berlin.

Appearently, their potential victim might be working there.

"Sorry, the cabaret is not open yet, darlings," said a soft male voice in a harsh German accent.

Hannibal turned around to face the man and was hardly able to keep his facial muscles in check at what he saw. The guy wore leather boots and tight black trousers which were being held in place by a kind of harness that looked like braces but went all the way down to the man's crotch to bring out a buldge. Apart from the braces, his chest was naked, save for a bowtie that was haphazardly tied to the harness. His nipples were rouged in a startling red and his face, though handsome, was quite pompously painted. His short black hair was untidy.

He moved gracefully and every sound he made sounded like an innuendo. Will was staring at the man, too shocked to form an answer.

"Are you the Master of Ceremonies? We overheard some talk about you," said Hannibal, audibly forcing himself to sound all smooth and superior.

The man in front of them grinned and came closer as if inspecting them. Hannibal could not help flinching back a bit while Will didn't even seem to notice. Lost in his chaotic thoughts and therefore lost to the world.

"Ah, two naughty boys, are you?", the Master of Ceremonies asked seductively and came even closer. Hannibal decided his best way of repelling this...creature would be to show him that he was a very naughty boy indeed. Not the kind you want to have inside your bed, though. Therefore, he put up a real effort to give this stranger his most scary-looking psychopath-smile.

The MC seemed like he wanted to say something when suddenly, Will shook himself, looked up sharply and said "Well, sorry for intruding, we'll be back later when the cabaret is open."

Then, he stiffly strode out of the gloomy bar. The MC seemed slightly puzzled. Stepping out of his seductive act, he asked:

"Is he alright?"

Hannibal genuinely did not know how to answer this question. By Will's standarts, "alright" probably meant "currently not having a mental breakdown" but given his erratic behavior just now, Hannibal could not even guarantee that. Instead, he answered:

"He will be.", inclined his head respectfully as to bid farawell (even though his expression was less respectful and more menacing; he did not want that man to ever approach him this rudely again. Had he not been vital to this investigation, Hannibal had turned him into stew or a nice lasagna) As he followed Will outside, he heard the MC person giggle.

Giggle. About him. Hannibal felt his blood boil when he heard the man mumble "Little tiger, isn't he."

Outside, he almost ran into Will in his rage. Will didn't seem to mind. Or care. Or even notice. "It's him. This is his design," he mumbled. Hannibal calmed himself and instead went into "helpful and understanding psychiatrist"-mode.

"So, he will be killed next. Why?"

"He's like he's out of his time. It angers the killer."

"Being out of sync with the rest disturbs the pattern," supplied Hannibal helpfully.

"So it's like exteme OCD and a god complex combined?", Will mused.

"It is not as simple but nevetheless an accurate description of the killer's symptoms," Hannibal answered.

* * *

"So he's against the nazis. But lots of people are. Especially in cabarets. Why him?" asked Clara. After many difficult hours with Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter, she was still trying to keep up.

"N-no, he's, he's different. It's almost like he is the cabaret. If I were the killer, he'd be my next victim," stuttered Will.

"How did you even find him?", asked the Doctor.

"Mere coincidence," answered doctor Lecter, "We overheard a talk about him as we searched for clues and Will was entirely convinced that this man was who we were looking for."

"Doctor, how long do we have?", asked Will.

"We landed three days before the traveler with the vortex manipulator will materialise here," the Doctor replied. C

lara was a bit confused as to why they had to conduct an investigation then.

"Hold on. If we know where and when he'll land why don't we just wait? We can just be precisely here in three days and finally-"

"Ish," the Doctor interjected.

"-catch him. Wait! What do you mean ish?", Clara asked but she already knew the answer.

"Well, I could trace where it'll land but it's all wibbly-wobbly. It could be anywhere in a five kilometer radius and you know, three -give or take one- days."

Clara sighed. Yes, of course. How could she forget the Doctor's inability to EVER be on time. Or the right place. Great.

"Where is the cabaret, then?", she asked instead.

"Just down the road, it's called the Kit Kat Klub. We were already there to see him," said Will. He was glad that the whole "wibbly-wobbly"-talk was finally at an end. It made his head spin and gave him a rush of anxiety.

"What's he like?", Clara asked him.

"He's… pretty special," Will trailed off, at a loss for words to describe that man he had seen.

"It would be best if you made your own picture of him, as he is quite difficult to describe," Hannibal added. Any descriptions he was able to come up with were quite insulting and non-objective.

"Okay, then. Let's go there to warn him. Will, do you… know where he is going to attack him?", Clara said.

"Uh, he'll want to humiliate him in front of everyone. He wants to be seen and celebrated. I'm pretty sure it'll be during the show."

"We're not going to warn him." Will and Clara stared at the Doctor.

"Why the hell not, Doctor?" his companion angrily asked. "We will catch him in the act," Hannibal said, looking at the Doctor with something close to appreciation. He hadn't thought the Doctor to be this calculating. Clara glare at him in consternation. He didn't seem to try being a Good Man right now if he had the same opinion as Hannibal Lecter. Even though the reasoning behind it was different: The Doctor genuinely wanted to catch a bad person, Hannibal was looking forward to seeing a colleague at work.

"But-"

"Clara, we can either save his life or all of the other following victims by stopping him," he said.

"No, Doctor. You can save all of them," she said solemnly. He realised she was right, of course. The Doctor always saved the day. That's why he was the Doctor, after all.

In the end, they agreed to watch the show in the cabaret and then decide what to do next. After all, there was plenty of time left. Ish. The Kit Kat Klub was a gloomy, raunchy place. Still, it wasn't uncomfortable, quite the opposite. The heavy, dark atmosphere swallowed up its visitors, but it was peaceful and grounding. The furniture was worn but inviting, the lights dim yet not too dark and the drinks as good as anywhere these days.

When they entered the cabaret, they decided to split up: Hannibal and the Doctor looked so out of place and weird that Clara decided they were to sit together on one of the small round wooden tables in front of the stage, and Clara and Will would pretend to be on a date, sitting on a table on the other side of the room. Every table was conveniently equipped with a telephone. The Kit Kat Klub prided itself with being the most modern cabaret in Berlin ("instant connection!"). It would be useful to be able to communicate. Between their numbers, the performers of the cabaret seemed to join the audience on the tables, because some of the people sitting there were in costume even though the show hadn't started yet.

One of them came up to the table on which Hannibal and the Doctor were sitting and introduced himself as Bobby in flawless English. Without really asking, he sat down next to Hannibal and began talking to him.

Across the room, Will snickered. "Look, Hannibal seems to tickle that guy's fancy."

Clara grinned. "I never thought that smooth git could look so uncomfortable," she said. "Serves him right."

Hannibal was indeed uncomfortable. That Bobby person kept talking and asking questions and made sure to make it very clear that he was gay. He also didn't miss the amused glances from Clara and Will which was a bit of a drawback, since she had been terrified of him only a few hours ago. He blamed Bobby.

"Oh, by the way, would you like a drink? I get them for free, you know," Bobby was saying now. Of course, Hannibal knew this man was trying to get him drunk but he decided that one drink might help him relax and regain his posture.

"Yes, that might be nice," he answered and forced himself to smile. The Doctor watched as Bobby made for the bar, secretly glad that he wasn't the center of so much unwanted attention. Bobby came back with a Whiskey. "There you go. I have to go now; the show is starting but I'll be back." He winked at Hannibal and disappeared behind the stage. Hannibal took a big gulp from his drink. It tasted beyond cheap to his refined taste buds but he was willing to ignore that for the evening. The curtain opened and the show began. Our four...heroes were in for a wild ride.


End file.
